hristian his heart, even
Christian.

'Take care of my little maid, lad.'

He answered 'Ay,' stupidly.

'For I reckon I may not be here long to care for her myself.'

That was all he said at first, but that he would say often for some days,
till he was sure that Christian had taken the sense in full, and had
failed to quite disbelieve his foreboding.

'Before I lie down in the dark, I would like main to hear you take oath
on it, lad.'

'I take oaths never,' said Christian mechanically.

'Right, right! save in this wise: before God's altar with ring and
blessing.'

Christian examined his face long to be sure of understanding; then he
said, 'No.'

Giles was disappointed, but spite of the absolute tone he would not take
a negative.

'When I am gone to lie yonder east and west, and when some day the wife
shall come too to bed with me, how will you take care of my little maid?
her and her good name?'

'Oh, God help us!'

'Look you to it, for I doubt she, dear heart, cares for you--now--more
than for her mere good name.'

'How can she!' he muttered.

Said Giles hazardously: 'Once I knew of a girl such as Rhoda; as shy and
proud and upright; and a lad she liked,--a lad, say, such as you,
Christian, that she liked in her heart more than he guessed. Until he got
shamefully mistook, miscalled, mishandled, when she up and kissed him at
open noon in the face of all. And then, I mind, at need she followed him
over seas, and nought did her good heart think on ill tongues. There is
Rhoda all over.'

He watched askance to see what the flawed wits could do, and repented of
his venture; for it was then Christian so paled and presently so slept.

But Giles tried again.

'Do you mind you of the day of Rhoda's coming? Well, what think you had I
at heart then? You never had a guess? You guess now.'

Christian said, 'I will not.'

'Ah! lad, you do. And to me it looked so right and fit and just. That the
wife might gainsay, I allowed; but not you. No; and you will not when I
tell you all.

'Christian, I do not feel that I have left in me another spring, so while
I have the voice I must speak out, and I may not let you be.

'You know of Rhoda's birth: born she was on the same night as our child.
As for me, I could not look upon the one innocent but thought on the
other would rise, and on the pitiful difference there was. Somehow, the
wife regarded it as the child of its father only, I think always, till
Rhoda stood